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THE CHRONICLES OF THE DAD HATTER:

About Me

I have loved fashion since I was old enough to wield a pair of scissors and start a collection of scrapbooks.I also love to write...hence this blog... about my take on fashion and trends and people in fashion and how I feel about them and it and...well,enough said.
But this isn't a fashion blog like any others as it isn't only about fashion. It is about having fun and laughing and having views and sharing them...as I share The Chronicles of The Dad Hatter with you...and he has absolutely Nothing to do with fashion!...but more to do with laughing. Get the picture?

Friday, 2 September 2011

For all those who read my posting “Say you, Say me...” back in Oct.2010, you will be familiar with the characters: the ballsy B looking for love and her hopelessly romantic “starter boyfriend” X. For all those who don’t...you have some scrolling to do or simply click on this to catch up:http://frockanrolla.blogspot.com/2010/10/say-you-say-me.html

So B thought long and hard over the situation with X and she decided to give things a chance. She kept her mouth closed and her ears open trying to figure this tall lanky guy, with a penchant for “cheesy and queasy”, out. What she did know was that he was visibly besotted with her and had no qualms in showing it. But love had played tricks on her in the past, she was now prepared to outwit it before she falls into its trap.But they had to step it up a notch now, another night in listening to bloody Lionel Ritchie and she would have to break X’s heart as well as his stereo. His romantic overtures were too Barbara Cartland for her taste and yet he still hadn’t taken her out for a slap up meal. Could X’s reticence be an oversight on his behalf or was he simply a tight wad? She shuddered at the memory of a past paramour who would bring a teabag of his favourite green tea with him whenever he spent the night as well as a packet of biscuits.There was never a second teabag, nor a second packet of biscuits. After several nights of this ritual, B had to ask:
“Tell me something, what is up with the one teabag?”
“Oh, I love a cup of green tea before going to bed” was his reply.
“And ...you just think of bringing the one?” said B dripping with sarcasm. “How about bringing the entire box? And maybe...I don’t know, leave it here?”
“Well... I didn’t know whether you liked green tea...” was his response.
Hers was to send him packing.

The Foire de Nice, a yearly event and culinary treat for all self respecting foodie on the Cote D’Azur, was in full swing that weekend and B suggested to X that they drive to Nice to check it out.
So there they were amongst the many stands and stalls of mouth watering treats and B’s stomach started to rumble to a steady beat....take me out for lunch,take me out for lunch.But the loved up X remained stoically oblivious to the wild card she had dealt him: would he pass the test or tighten his wad?
“So what do you want to do now?” he happily asked, rose tinted glasses firmly in place.
“I’m hungry and would like to get something to eat!” she responded, slightly riled now that he still hadn’t picked up on the natural flow to this date: food, wine and then if he is lucky...some passionate dessert back at his flat with their companion Lionel Ritchie .Then again, at this point all she could imagine him possibly singing was: “Hello?... Is it meat you’re looking for?....”Grrrr
“Oh! Why didn’t you say something? Come with me...”he grabbed her hand and headed for a stall that made and sold fresh ravioli. B faint with hunger but determined to stand her ground, spotted a smattering of tables and chairs beside the stall and thought to herself: “Ok... he is making an effort here, although this isn’t quite what I wanted... it is kind of cute.”
X bought a portion of ravioli and turned to B triumphant. He then proceeded to turn his back on the stand, the tables , the inviting chairs and everything he holds dear...the lightning was about to crack.
“Isn’t this fun?” he declared with unbridled glee as he forked a piece of ravioli and thrust it at her gaping mouth: “A bite for you and a bite for me...”
B delirious with hunger and disappointment let rip: “Are you f**# kidding me? Are you seriously planning on spoon feeding me bits of ravioli while we stand here in the middle of all these people? What comes after that... Paddy cake?”
A now frightened X stood stoke still, fork in mid air, eyes agog, his blood rapidly draining from his face: “But... you said you were hungry! “he replied in his defence.
“Yessss ...as in take me to a restaurant ! Would that be too much to ask...or doesn’t your wallet stretch that far?”
“But I thought that this would be romantic....”insisted a stunned X with a face like a slapped arse.

X looks back on this day fondly now: “Boy! You looked scary...like an electrified brillo pad!”
Moral of the story: Never look a gift horse in the mouth...and if its mouth is open...it obviously needs to be fed.

They have moved on and moved in together since then....except for Lionel, of course. He can now be seen on television making fun of his own tunes in the ad for Walkers crisps....thankfully it isn’t on French TV.